


Some Days

by artfulinanities



Series: Just Some Tumblr Things... [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, John Takes Care Of Sherlock, M/M, Nightmares, Non-verbal Sherlock, PTSD John, PTSD Sherlock, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sherlock Takes Care Of John, Sign Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 22:45:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6726397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artfulinanities/pseuds/artfulinanities
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some days, John’s limp comes back and his shoulder throbs, a deep ache that settles into his very bones. Everything is grey and dead and flat, no matter if there’s a case or not. Some days, he can’t shake the feeling of sand in his shoes and blood on his hands and the dry desert heat desiccating his lungs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. John's Version

**Author's Note:**

> This was the product of too much coffee, too little sleep, and a dash of melancholy, but I like it, sooo...here it is!

Some days, John’s limp comes back and his shoulder throbs, a deep ache that settles into his very bones. Everything is grey and dead and flat, no matter if there’s a case or not. Some days, he can’t shake the feeling of sand in his shoes and blood on his hands and the dry desert heat desiccating his lungs. Some days, his hand trembles so violently that everything he touches shatters: mugs, pens, mirrors…everything falls to ruin. The nightmares come back and the smallest sounds make him jump, the past and the present merging into one rancorous reality that leaves him completely incapacitated.

Some days, Sherlock will pause, fixing John with a knowing gaze and cancel all of their plans. Minor cases are postponed, experiments annulled, Mycroft dismissed, and Mrs. Hudson left to her own devices. His jaw set, Sherlock will tow John into their room and dress them both in their pyjamas, ushering John into bed and curling up next to him, never speaking, never asking questions, just being. Some days, John will settle his hand over Sherlock heart and listen to his breathing, because that means that he’s home, that they’re safe, that the blood and the sand and the gunfire and those two years of crippling loneliness are far behind them.

Some days, John is haunted by the shadows of his past. Some days, he can’t quite escape his own mind. But it’s fine - it’s all fine - or, it will be, someday, because he has Sherlock to help him through it.


	2. Sherlock's Version

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some days, Sherlock’s brain feels as though it’s being torn apart by thousands of tiny hooks, each one threaded into the grey matter and pulling in opposite directions. Everything hurts: every thought, every action, every sight, every sound…all of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's Sherlock's version.

Some days, Sherlock’s brain feels as though it’s being torn apart by thousands of tiny hooks, each one threaded into the grey matter and pulling in opposite directions. Everything hurts: every thought, every action, every sight, every sound…all of it. Some days, Sherlock can’t stand the touch of anything against his skin, can’t handle the taste of food on his tongue or the feeling of it sitting heavy in his stomach. Some days, even speaking feels like too much – too loud, to laborious – words turning to ash in his mouth. Breathing is boring, speaking is boring, even sleeping is too gargantuan an effort to contemplate. Sherlock will just lie on the mattress, sheets strewn haphazardly over his long frame, curtains drawn and eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling.

Some days, John will stop, watching the whirlwind of boredom and anger and cravings slowly dissolve into lagging gestures and stuttering words and articulate signs made by trembling hands and then…silence. Sherlock had told him that he wouldn’t speak for days on end, but he’d never imagined the depth of those silences. Hands gentle – never touching, just hovering close enough for their warmth to radiate into Sherlock’s skin – he will guide Sherlock into their bedroom, stripping off the heavy quilt and textured blankets, leaving only the smooth sheets with their ridiculous thread count. He’ll draw the curtains, signing slowly, carefully, hands saying what Sherlock’s ears can’t bear to hear. Some days, Sherlock will reach out and pull John down onto the bed alongside him, just the tips of their fingers brushing, hands fluttering when something needs to be said or lying idle between them when words aren’t necessary.

Some days, Sherlock is haunted by his time away, by the horrors locked away carefully in his mind palace. Some days, his greatest asset becomes his greatest enemy. But things will work out. John keeps him right, just the two of them against the world. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop by and say hello on my Tumblr: @artfulinanities

**Author's Note:**

> Drop by and say hello on [my Tumblr](http://artfulinanities.tumblr.com/)


End file.
